


Green With Envy

by cat_scratch_club



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bottom!Sherlock, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Sherlock - Freeform, jealous!lock, possessive, top!John
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-12
Packaged: 2018-01-01 08:21:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1042532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cat_scratch_club/pseuds/cat_scratch_club
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock notices a woman flirting with John. Naturally, he needs to make sure nothing is going on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Green With Envy

Green With Envy

Sherlock tapped his foot impatiently on the linoleum floor as he fiddled with his scarf. He raised his eyebrows, glancing over at the table where John was chatting with a witness. The consulting detective was only half focused on working out the details of the case; the other half of his mind was analyzing every movement John made. The woman sitting across the table from the doctor was wearing too much makeup and she quite obviously had just gotten divorced for the second time, judging by her right index finger and the marks on her wrist. Sherlock rolled his eyes. She was flirtatiously batting her eyelashes at John - his John - and John was grinning right back. 

Sherlock cleared his throat loudly, drawing John up and out of his chair. He walked towards Sherlock, who exasperatedly raised his eyebrows. “She was interesting,” John mused, smiling at his companion. Sherlock merely ran a hand along John’s arm.

“She was quite obviously a vapid ninny and a poor excuse for a witness,” Sherlock spat, the green flecks in his eyes glinting. “The way she was trailing those hideous pink nails on your arm like she was some kind of a...a… woman of the night.” 

John bemusedly smiled. “Sherlock, she was perfectly nice. And she gave me some good information. I’m meeting her later for drinks, actually.”

Sherlock tried to hide the hurt in his face. “But...but we...I thought you and I were going to clean up the flat tonight.” 

John was taken aback. “You hate cleaning the flat, Sherlock. You only agreed because I said I’d give you a treat if you did.” Both of them grinned at this, though Sherlock made a motion for John to lower his voice. 

“John, you can’t be so open about this. If the chief finds out about this…about us...we’ll both be out of here faster than you can say workplace discrimination.” 

John took a small step back. “Sorry,” he mumbled. 

Sherlock glanced at him, a rush of embarrassment flushing his cheeks. “No, John, I didn’t mean...I just…” He sighed. “Let’s go back to the apartment.”

John perked up. “Are you sure? I’m supposed to meet Elise at seven and it’s half past five.” 

Sherlock grimaced. “I’m sure Elise,” he spat, “won’t mind waiting. I just want a little time with you.” He winked, turning promptly on his heel and out into the cold London air. 

John followed, his mind reeling at the possibilities of what Sherlock intended to do in the next half hour.   
Sherlock paid the cabbie, following John up the stairs to their apartment. No sooner were to two in the door than Sherlock pinned John against the wall, his cold lips brushing John’s neck with a fervent urgency. 

“Sh-Sherlock,” John gasped, his hands pulling off the detective’s scarf. “What...why…?”

Sherlock mumbled something into John’s collarbone, his long fingers slipping under his partner’s wool jumper. “What was that?” John asked, locking his fingers in Sherlock’s unruly, wind-whipped curls.

Sherlock pulled his mouth away from John’s chest, his gaze boring into the blond. “I want you.”

John raised an eyebrow. He felt Sherlock’s bulge against his leg. “Er...I can tell.”

Sherlock shook his head, a stray curl flopping in front of his eye. “No, I mean...I want you. And I want you to want me.” He looked down, feeling foolish. 

“Oh, Sherlock, of course I want you!” John brushed Sherlock’s hair from his eyes, pulling the taller man’s chin toward him so he could place a gentle kiss on his lips. 

Sherlock looked away again. “It’s...it’s just...the way you were with that woman earlier, I...I don’t know. Forget it.”

John smirked despite himself. His voice was husky. “I am yours, Sherlock. No one else’s.” His hands wrapped tighter around Sherlock as he kissed the detective’s neck. 

Sherlock moved, his hips angling toward the bedroom, but John held him firmly in place, pinning him against the wall. “Yours,” he repeated, unbuttoning his pants. 

Sherlock moaned contentedly, placing his palms against the wall and feeling the weight of John’s hands on his hips as he readied Sherlock.

He’s mine, Sherlock thought absentmindedly. All mine.


End file.
